


Confession

by Delotha



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Demons, Fictional Religion & Theology, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delotha/pseuds/Delotha
Summary: Some sins cannot be forgiven...





	Confession

The local parsonage never did get much traffic on sunny Thursday afternoons, especially after a bout of heavy rain had driven everyone indoors for nearly a week. Most were either at work, or enjoying the first real sunshine in days. It made for a slow day, for all that there was still work to be done.

One of the young priests assigned to the parish was dozing inside. He’d taken advantage of the slow day, and decided to try grabbing a quick nap inside the booth. He had thought his absence would go unnoticed; he was wrong, but no one wanted to wake him and have him underfoot all afternoon, and crabby to boot.

By all accounts, the arrival of the man should have warranted some note. He was tall, with a lean, athletic build clad in black, patchwork leather. His mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes, obscuring a face that might have been attractive if he ever smiled, and his gait was that of a man constantly on high alert and prepared to fight. He should have attracted some attention upon his arrival - someone should have noticed him.

Yet, he walked in unnoticed, and slipped inside the confessional booth with the napping priest.

“I thought sloth was a deadly sin,” the man said abruptly, waking the dozing priest with a start. The man’s voice was pitched low and might have been pleasant, were it not for the hoarse rumble. The priest stared through the grate at the man, trying to piece out his features, but they were hidden in shadow and darkness. However, the priest was able to discern that the man was not one of the usual members of the congregation, nor was he one of the clergy.

“Can I help you?” the priest asked somewhat irritably. “Are you here to make a confession?”

The man paused, hesitating the priest thought. “It has been a long time. A _very_ long time.”

The priest inwardly cursed. He didn’t want to have to sit in the confessional booth while a man recounted his sins that had likely gone on for years. He tried again to see the man’s face, to try and gauge just how long he might be there. Again, he couldn’t see much beyond the shadows of his features, obscured by his sunglasses.

“Take your time, my child,” the priest told him, trying and failing to sound patient and compassionate. “Start from the beginning.”

 _And hurry up_ went unspoken.

The man paused again, and his head tilted in consideration. “Before we begin, may I ask you a question?”

“As you like,” the priest replied, meaning no. The man either missed that cue, or ignored it.

“Can the sins of angels ever be forgiven?”

The priest rolled his eyes and tried not to sigh. He couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “If by angel, you mean a person, all sins can be forgiven if you repent.”

“But not an angel?”

“Angels can’t sin,” the priest chided sharply. “They are bound to the will of God.”

There was a long pause, and the priest almost prompted the man to start confessing already, when he spoke again.

“But if an angel _were_ to sin, would he be forgiven?”

The priest bit his tongue, and sarcastically congratulated himself on getting a crackpot into confession. There were ways to deal with this sort of thing; they teach you that, of course. But he was irritable from his nap being interrupted and annoyed at the man for taking up so much of his time.

“If an angel were to sin, he would fall,” the priest told him flatly. “Fallen angels are sent to hell to be punished for their sins. Are you going to confess or not?”

“Me?” the man asked, sounding both amused and surprised. “Confess? I think not. I am more interested in _your_ confession.”

A trickle of fear wormed its way into the priest’s stomach and his forehead beaded in sweat. “I have nothing to confess, least of all, to _you_! If you’re not going to make your confession, then get out!”

The priest stormed out of the confessional, and tripped over a footstool that had been left right outside the door. As he struggled to pick himself up, he felt a chill run down his spine. The church was deathly quiet. The only sound was his ragged breathing, and even then, the foreboding silence seemed to swallow it whole.

He was picked up by his collar. The man held the priest off the ground, showing no signs of strain as he did so despite the priest’s excess weight. The priest stared in growing horror as the man removed the sunglasses, revealing a pair of bright, sterling eyes.

“This is a house of God,” the priest whispered, unable to speak any louder.

“Not anymore,” the man told him coldly. He was smiling now - a wan, cold smile that transformed his face into something almost demonic. “Your God has abandoned this church, just as he abandons all of His children.”

The priest began to struggle, whimpering, but the man’s arm was like steel. In desperation, he kicked at the man - who grabbed his leg with a bruising grip that made his bones creak in protest. The priest screamed, but like his breathing and whimpering, it seemed to have been swallowed up by the silence of the church.

“Why are you doing this to me?” the priest cried.

“Because I like it,” the man told him. He dropped him abruptly, and the priest screamed again when his leg crumbled beneath him, unable to bear his weight. Even so, the priest struggled to escape.

“Because I do _not_ like you,” the man continued. He aimed a casual kick to the priest’s side, sending him tumbling headlong into the pews. The priest was unable to scream as he felt two of his ribs buckle. Black and red dots swarmed at the edges of his vision, and when he could finally breath again, it was agony.

“And because, priest,” the man sneered, dragging him up by his collar again, “your soul has been weighed-” he started dragging the priest out of the church “-it has been measured-” the candles at the altar began rapidly melting, cracks appeared in the window panes, and the wood started to warp “-and it has been found wanting.”

With that, the man tossed the priest at the feet of a girl no more than fifteen. She stared down at the priest with no expression, but rage burned in her eyes. When the priest looked up at her, he yelped and tried to crawl away. The man knelt on the priest’s back and grabbed a handful of the priest’s hair, and forced him to look the girl in the eyes.

“Look upon your sin, priest,” the man snarled. “Look upon what you have destroyed.”

“Please, it wasn’t me!” the priest screamed. “I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!”

“You deny it?” the man asked scornfully. “You deny it, to her face? You deny it, to me?” He shook the priest’s hair. “Confess! Confess your sin, and be forgiven!”

The priest stilled. “You promise?”

The man loosened his grip on the priest and moves to kneel in front of him. He gently caressed the priest’s round face with the other hand. “Is that not what you yourself said? ‘All sins can be forgiven’?”

The priest looked into the man’s sterling eyes, then back at the girl who stared at him with hatred and contempt. He looked back at the man, watching him patiently. The priest broke, and began sobbing.

“I confess!” he gasped. “I confess! I did it!”

“What did you do?” the man asked.

“I… I-I raped her…!”

The girl’s fists clenched, and blood dripped from her palms.

“I told her… I told her no one would believe her… that it was her word against mine, and I’m a priest… that if she was a good girl, I would…”

“What would you do?” The man cupped the priest’s cheek almost gently. “What did you tell her you would do, if she were a good girl?”

“That I… that I would hear her confession…”

The priest dissolved into tears, his broken ribs wrenching with each sob. The girl stared down at him, her bloody hands shaking and her eyes filled with tears that did not fall. She looked at the man with wild fury.

The man did not notice, or care. He released the priest and stood. “That was all I needed. Your God forgives you, priest.”

“Thank you,” the priest blubbered. “Thank you…!”

“Let me finish,” the man said. He smiled that terrible, demon smile. “Your God forgives you, but I do not.”

The priest looked up at him with a sharp yelp of pain. “But… you said… You said if I confessed-”

“Your God forgives all sins,” the man told him coldly, “if you repent. You have made your confession, priest, to your God, to me, and to this girl. But your penance has only just begun.”

The priest stared up at the man in terror, then looked around desperately for help. The window panes were shattered. The candles had long gone out, melted into pools of dripping wax. The wood frames of the walls and doors warped into maddening shapes. The holy water in the foyer were muddied and stinking. As he gazed around in horror, he began to see shapes appear from the shadows. Twisted, demonic forms, with bloodied weapons brandished. On the floor were twisted, broken shapes that might have once been angels. He turned back to the man and the girl - and gagged on a scream.

The girl was flanked by powerful, demonic beings - their shapes inhuman and dark. It made the priest’s eyes blur to look at them, and he turned to the man to beg anew. The man was standing in front of him, unchanged and yet somehow darker and more sinister than before.

“We of Hell are unholy heathens,” he told the priest. “We are the barbaric, the wretched, the reviled - who glory in our decadence, our wickedness. There are no depths to which we will not sink, no evil that is beneath our scope. And yet, in spite of that, you are not worthy to serve the lowest of us.” He gestured to two demonic beings, who lifted the priest by his arms. “But do not fret, priest. My Queen does not wish you dead.”

The priest winched as he looked up at the man, confused, but the man simply ignored him.

“There is a divinity in suffering, I am told,” the man said. “You will be given an opportunity to repent for your sins against my Queen.”

“I don’t,” the priest began, stammering. “Your queen? I don’t…?”

The man stopped and turned to the priest. “You see, the girl you raped was a particular favorite of my Queen - the Queen of the Darkness, Heir to Lies, and Mistress of Hell Itself. When you raped this girl, you hurt my Queen. But she has chosen to be merciful. She has chosen to allow you to repent for your sins - in Hell.”

“I am a man of God!” the priest protested. “I was saved! I’m a priest!”

“Man of God, raper of children,” the man sneered. “God has nothing to do with this! It is as I said, your soul has been weighed, it has been measured, and it has been found wanting.” He gestured to the demons. “Take him home.”

The priest screamed and struggled, despite his broken ribs, but it was futile. The demons barely felt his struggles as they carried him out of the church. The girl stared up at the man, shaking, and he turned to her with a quizzical expression.

“Burn it,” she whispered harshly. 

The man nodded, and the demons set fire to what remained of the church. The bodies of the angels were left inside. Outside, no one seemed to notice that the church was in flames until it was too late. The fire department could only douse the nearby buildings in water and try to contain the flames. When they had finally died down, all that remained was a smoldering, weakened foundation.

An ash-streaked girl watched the entire time, tears never falling from her face, smiling with malice burning in her eyes.


End file.
